Inspired by the Experiences of AGYW Living with HIV
To the ordinary eye, I am an ordinary girl. The girl you walk past on the street, the girl that sings in the church choir, the girl you sit next to in the classroom, the village girl fetching water at the well, the girl in line at the health center shed. You may even find me in a nightclub or running in a charity marathon. However, what you don’t know is that I am living with HIV.
Just as I come in different shades and ages, so do my fears and troubles. To give you a sense of what it means to be in my shoes, I’ll offer you a glimpse.
As you may be aware, my well-being and health depend heavily on adhering to my daily ARVs medication. Depending on the age at which I contracted HIV, I may have had to endure pills and their side effects as a baby, toddler, adolescent, and now as an adult. To take my medicines on time, I often have to carry them with me wherever I go—on a bus, at school, at work, or at home. But even when I muster the courage, the gazes and accompanying whispers don’t make it any easier. The story is worse if, as a public figure, I turn up at an ART clinic to pick up my ARVs. You can picture the discomfort I endure.
To adhere to my medication and live healthily, I certainly need to eat well, preferably a balanced diet. However, as already noted, I come in different shades. As a rural primary school pupil, I have to walk several kilometres to school and spend the entire day on an empty stomach. As a baby, my mother or caretaker, often my grandmother, may have limited resources to provide proper nutrition. And, to be honest, I am sometimes that teenage single mother forced to engage in survival sex to support my baby because my family and partner have abandoned me. Yet, regardless of my situation, I must still take my medicines.
At health facilities, despite efforts by donors and the government to improve service quality, a girl like me still faces immense challenges. In the shoes of a rural girl, I walk several kilometres to the health facility, only to encounter long queues and too few health workers. These health workers will sometimes gossip about me, either at the facility or within the community. Besides their heavy workload, many are poorly motivated and lack the passion to serve. As a result, I sometimes have to provide a financial incentive to get proper attention, or I might not receive adequate psychosocial support and drug literacy. On occasion, my drug regimen has been changed without my consent or proper explanation. In extreme cases, like in the shoes of an HIV-positive baby, I have received incorrect prescriptions, sometimes leading to tragic outcomes. And despite my commitment to taking my medication, I can’t help but worry about its long-term toxicity to my body.
Now, let’s talk about disclosure. Have I disclosed my HIV status to my family, boyfriend, school administrators, or friends? The decision depends on the expected consequences and varies from one girl to another. As a school-going girl, I have had to disclose to school administrators so that I could access clinic days and receive adherence support for my medication. When I’ve disclosed to friends, I’ve received a mix of support, gossip, and physical stigma. You might think that I’ve disclosed my status to my family and partner, but that’s not always the case. In my different roles as a daughter, girlfriend, or spouse, I’ve learned that deliberate or unintended disclosure can make me a target for judgment, violence, or rejection. I’ve lost count of how many times a boyfriend has ended a relationship and left me heartbroken after discovering I am HIV-positive. For these and other reasons, I’ve often been forced to conceal my status and take my medication in secret.
And yes, despite all my fears and troubles, like any other girl my age, I have dreams. I dream of finishing school. I dream of getting a good job. I dream of starting my own business. I dream of building a nice house. And someday, I hope to fulfil my dream of getting married and having children of my own.
